27. It Has
Their first kiss isn't one of mutual understanding or want for the earth underneath their feet to tilt towards dangerous territory neither is willing to claim. It isn't a giving in of passions, but an impulsive, fleeting memory left on his mouth when they strive to reach common ground once again. It definitely isn't accompanied with a mind-boggling realisation that they are soul mates, that the kiss changes everything.
It isn't something he wants at all.
But it has happened, and he can't take it back.
Her brown eyes are half-closed as he pulls away from her roughly. He had only kissed her in the first place because of a moment of weakness—one which should never have happened. The sudden desperation to lose himself in her had been overwhelming, the need to forget about Lucy, Johanna, and the Judge for just a second too great to resist. He'd never meant for things to get as far as having her pressed against the door to the tonsorial parlour, his hands fisted in her wild hair. It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
But it has.
Her hands keep him locked against her as he tries to pull away, her grasp on his waist vice-like. He growls, jerking away as far as she will allow, fingers locking around her wrist bruisingly. Her eyes narrow with determination as she soaks up the pain he gives her. She'll soak up anything he wishes to throw her way, good or bad, for the rest of her life.
She pulls him back towards her, determination burning in her eyes. He feels his face setting in a half-formed snarl, agitated by her persistence. She ignores his expression.
"Dammit, Sweeney Todd," she hisses, catching his face between her hands. "I've only just found you. I won't lose
you now."
He doesn't want to kiss her again. He doesn't want it to happen. But the gap between them shrinks irresistibly. He
can count each dark eyelash, see the many flecks of brown honeying her impossibly dark eyes, can feel the heat of her breath on his mouth.
And it does.